


Anywhere else

by Quoyan_XI



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee, F/M, Ice Cream, Joffrey is a douchebag, Petyr being smug all the time, Petyr is Petyr, Running Away, Sansa is a celebrity, Sansa wants to direct a movie, Smut, Some angst, Walks On The Beach, and Petyr loves her, and fluffy, she's the star, so sweet, some drama, walk under the moon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-06-17 17:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15465996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quoyan_XI/pseuds/Quoyan_XI
Summary: The bachelor and heir to one of the country's multi-billion dollar companies was to marry none other than Sansa Stark. The famous model, actress and now renowned film director had managed to win the public's favour from her first role in the business.Revelation Artist award, twice winner of a 'Westeros Award', named Celebrity of the Year three times in a row, and now with her debut as director, she had earned seven nominations to win the small trophy again at the next Westerosi film gala.The crowds adored them. They were the perfect couple: young, handsome, rich, tremendously in love.... There wasn't a day when Sansa didn't wonder how much more she had to keep enduring this farce.





	1. Chapter 1

                                                                 

 

The strong electronic bass invaded the busy downtown street right after nightfall. The paparazzi's flashes and lights illuminated the avenue as guests walked down the exclusive red carpet. It was the most exclusive place in the capital, the very best for the engagement party of the most famous couple in town. The announcement of the marriage between the Stark and Baratheon families had caused a real stir in the city.

The bachelor and heir to one of the country's multi-billion dollar companies was to marry none other than Sansa Stark. The famous model, actress and now renowned film director had managed to win the public's favour from her first role in the business.

Revelation Artist award, twice winner of a 'Westeros Award', named Celebrity of the Year three times in a row, and now with her debut as director, she had earned seven nominations to win the small trophy again at the next Westerosi film gala.

The crowds adored them. They were the perfect couple: young, handsome, rich, tremendously in love.... There wasn't a day when Sansa didn't wonder how much more she had to keep enduring this farce.

 _‘It’s only marketing Sansa, just marketing,’_ she reminded herself, but she could still remember the threatening face of Cersei Lannister, telling her how she was the last person Joffrey deserved to be with and that if she failed to go through with the plan, Cersei would personally make sure to sabotage what was left of her career. _‘Getting a small part in a play in Flea Bottom would be a mercy compared to what I have in store for you.’_

Sansa was already used to dealing with the harsh terms Cersei used to refer to her. It was not the first time that the matriarch had lost her reins and granted her a plethora of adjectives, openly expressing her thoughts about her, and she was sure that it would not be the last time.

Cersei's empty intimidations ceased to have any effect long ago, yet Joffrey's constant attentions to her body didn’t improve things. Sansa hadn’t had much experience with boys before her relationship with Joffrey but she was sure that the manipulation, humiliation and violence to which she was subjected when they were alone weren’t what you’d call, ordinary.

Joffrey had made it quite clear to her from the beginning of their ''relationship'' that fairy tales were only fiction and that monsters were far more real than Sansa had previously thought. But sometimes, a monster had more than two faces.

His silent eyes watched her from every corner. A tickle in the back of her neck warned her that he was close, her pulse was racing and she could not fully understand the electrifying effect he had always on her.

‘Littlefinger,' that was what Joffrey had called him, as if he were offended by Sansa’s question about the enigmatic individual, before ordering her not to waste her time with a nobody or it would end up negatively affecting their reputation. By reputation he meant only his own, of course.

But that didn't stop Sansa's curiosity, she knew that Joffrey thought everyone was one step below him and she wasn't willing to lower herself to his level. She later discovered that Petyr Baelish, because that was his real name, held one of the highest positions in Robert Baratheon's company.

That did not explain why they always met in the same events, why his mischievous smile widened every time their eyes crossed and she quickly turned away with a blush. Why a _'Hello, how are you?'_ quickly turned into an _'I've missed you.’_ Why the night she’d won her last award for best actress was spent in the arms of the mysterious 'nobody' with silver on his temples and not with her 'beloved' boyfriend.

"I've missed you." He whispered in her ear after dinner, once the guests were allowed to walk around the great hall to mingle and talk about the big announcement. Petyr knew that Sansa’s relationship with Joffrey was a joke. He and she proved it every day, every night, every moment they had alone. The fact that Joffrey only cared about himself made things easier.

It was Petyr with whom she had shared her ambition to direct a film. It was Petyr who had encouraged her to pursue her project. It was Petyr she went to after a bad day or a good one. It was Petyr who called her at night when he was out of the country because he needed to hear her voice.

“I’ve missed you too.” She sighed inhaling his cologne when he grazed her arm. Petyr defined himself as a practical and confident person but the only thing that popped into her head every time she saw him was the word elegance. Most of the guests didn't understand that a custom-made suit was better than a tight one, showing 'muscles,' at least from her point of view. She wasn't saying that Harry Hardyng's biceps were bad for her eyes, but that was the only good thing that she could stand about the _‘I’m-trying-too-hard’_ young athlete’s look.

Petyr's navy blue suit fit his slender frame effortlessly and she couldn’t help but stare. The smirk on his face widened when his eyes caught hers, making her blush and gift him a girlish grin. At any other time that would have been enough for her to take him to the nearest empty room and show him how much she had missed him. At any other time.

"I think I'm one of the only people left to tell you how absolutely splendid you are tonight, Sansa." The young redhead bit her lower lip, reminding herself mentally to keep her distance.

"You're too kind, Mr. Baelish. I was wondering if I could talk to you tonight. I've been pretty busy, but I think I can make a little time for you." His green eyes pulled her in like a magnet, and she knew she wasn't the only one affected since she could see perfectly well how his Adam’s apple rose as he took a long drink from his champagne glass.

Petyr took a step forward. "Of course, sweetling, you know that as executive producer of your film I've always liked to hear your ideas."

“Only my ideas?”

"Aside from how well you sound moaning my name, I dare say your ideas are what fascinate me most about you," he whispered a few inches from her ear.

Sansa giggled and looked down, trying to hide the flush from her cheeks. Although she had tried to avoid it, they were both closer than was considered appropriate between two people who apparently had nothing in common to talk about.

There was a small silence between the two of them. She had been spying on him all night among the crowd of people who came to congratulate her on her engagement and now that he was standing before her, she didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, they were in a corner of the room that was rarely used, almost covered by one of the great columns that reigned in the room. In the distance there was a loud burst of laughter from one of the tables. Their heads turned into the ruckus and they watched Robert, in a much drunker than usual state, slap Ned Stark hard on the back and laugh at something he had said.

Sansa refrained from rolling her eyes but Petyr's touch diverted her attention back to him. She gave a small loving squeeze to their joined hands but Petyr wouldn’t let go. His fingers began to caress her knuckles absent-mindedly. There was something on his mind, but she had waited so long to be with him tonight that she dared not ask him so as not to break the moment.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Sansa blinked a couple of times, “Petyr, what do you mean?”

"You don't want to be here, it's written in your eyes," he explained, raising his eyes at last. There was something new in them, a speck of emotion.

"Petyr, it's my engagement party. This is right where I need to be." Didn't he understand that? All her work, all of her career had led her to this point. She had had to make more than one decision she would have preferred not to, but that didn’t mean she was going to throw it all away now.

"You don't need them, Sansa. Maybe you used to, but now you're someone on your own. You've achieved all your accomplishments by yourself, you owe them nothing."

“But I owe something to you, isn’t that what you’re saying, Petyr? We've already talked about this, you know it doesn't mean anything." Sansa turned around abruptly and left her glass of champagne on the nearest table. She didn't need Petyr to tell her again something she already knew. Something she couldn’t stop thinking about. This commitment to Joffrey was just an insurance, a back-up plan to cushion her in case her future projects failed.

She heard several steps approaching behind her. Sansa stood in the shadow of another column and closed her eyes. "It's not a question of whether you need me, Sansa," he told her once he caught up with her.  

"It's a question of whether you want to be with me or not."

Sansa huffed, annoyed. She really hated him. She hated the ease with which he could reduce big problems to questions as simple as a 'yes’ or a ‘no'. She hated him because deep down she wanted to let herself go and run away with him.

"Petyr, you know it's not that easy." It had always been a game from the beginning. The tickling of adventure, the excitement of not knowing when they would be able to see each other again. The clandestine meetings in his office, the long sleepless nights in her studio and the breaks between shooting the scenes for her next movie.

"Do you really want to go through with this charade? You never told me you were going to go this far," he accused her, with his eyes down looking at her ring.

"What do you want? You want me to leave everything behind? To go with you to a deserted island? My sponsors are here, my manager keeps telling me to go out and answer questions from the media for-"

"I want you to see that maybe the path you've chosen is not the only one to get what you want." She was unaware of how close they were until his unmistakable perfume wrapped around her, his hand rested on her shoulder and made a small gesture, as if to cradle her cheek.

Sansa smiled and shook her head, shortening the distance between the two of them. Sansa’s right hand found his chest and beneath it, his heart pounding, rumbling with each breath. Petyr took the initiative and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her forehead.

Sansa was tired, tired of playing her part. Could Petyr be right? She had been in this business for so long thinking she would always have to depend on someone, she had never thought she had already succeeded by herself.

"You're Sansa Stark, you don't need to be remembered in the future just for being someone's wife. You're the star, you make the rules." Sansa inhaled his scent for a few seconds until she parted from him at the sound of someone calling her name.

"Sansa! They want to take some pictures of you and Joffrey for tomorrow's front page." Her mother beckoned, waving her arms for her to come closer. Catelyn's eyes turned to her daughter's left seeing Petyr for the first time, "Good evening Petyr, I hadn’t seen you. I thought you left already."

Petyr raised his head slightly, "Good evening Cat. You're not so wrong, I was about to leave." Petyr turned to Sansa with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Petyr-"

"Good night, Miss Stark. I wish you and young Mr. Baratheon all the best. As always, it's a pleasure to talk to you."

Catelyn grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the center of the large room. She could barely glimpse Petyr leaving the room as the paparazzi shouted at her and Joffrey to smile and get closer together for the picture.

Joffrey grabbed her waist, holding her close to him and Sansa couldn't help but grimace. His breath reeked of alcohol and his fingers grabbed her like tweezers holding her in place. At first it wasn't hard for her to get into her role, but that's what they wanted. That was their game.

Sansa's gaze scanned the room once they were given a few seconds to rest between photos. It was all ostentation and joy, but there was no truth in it. Every night working, non-stop, sleepless to pursue her dream, were they for this?

"A few more pictures and we'll be on every front page tomorrow," Joffrey whispered in her ear and she had to hold back her urge to vomit.

His mother looked at them gladly. Cersei smiled and pretended to care about the superficiality of the event without letting go of the large glass of wine she clutched in her right hand. Sansa's father had disappeared with Robert Baratheon several minutes ago. What was Sansa doing here?

Catelyn thought the act was real, she had never wanted to look beyond her own fantasy and the fact that a large sum of money resided in her ignorance had never improved things. Sansa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was going crazy, there was no other explanation.

_‘I can't do this anymore.’_

"Sansa, where are you going?" Sansa didn't answer and continued to make her way through the room. Joffrey turned around at Catelyn's words and frowned.

"Where do you think you're going? Come back here!" Joffrey caught up with her and pulled her arm. Sansa broke free and picked up the pace, but was unlucky and was stopped again by the young Baratheon.

"Let go of me!"

The room fell silent. She felt each attendant's eyes on her, but she didn't care. If they wanted a little show, she'd give them a little show. Joffrey stepped forward, but Sansa took another step back.

"Sansa, are you out of your mind? Come back." The redhead ignored her mother's order and kept retreating backwards to the exit.

"I don't feel well. I just need..." But she didn't get to finish her sentence. Sansa turned around and sprinted to the exit. She could hear Joffrey still calling her, followed by a string of insults he had never dared to call her in public.

Sansa smiled to herself. A small tingle ran down her spine as she discerned his slender figure outside the building. The people around him were a homogeneous blur, but his figure was unmistakable. He was facing away with a cigarette in his hand, unaware of the turmoil around him or simply actively ignoring it.

A cloud of paparazzi surrounded her, capturing each of her actions, documenting to the end what would be the fate of this crazy night in which she had decided to skip the script. Sansa heard another yell from the inside of the building bearing her name. Apparently, her father had also joined her search.

The yell caught his eye and Sansa finally saw his face. There was an expression of surprise in his grey eyes, as if he had lost all hope of seeing her again after their brief argument.

Sansa moved down the stairs, foot after foot, until she reached his side. There was a loud murmur in the crowd, and between shouts and flashes there was no need to say anything. Her blue eyes glowed and when she saw that Petyr did not react she leaned a few inches from his ear.

"Do you want to be on the cover of every magazine tomorrow?" Petyr chuckled and looked up in the direction of the small crowd around them, but Sansa would not let him escape, not this time.

"It's a yes or no, Mr. Baelish."

A chill ran down Petyr's body and she noticed it. She knew the last thing he wanted was to be the center of attention, but contrary to her assumptions, Petyr wrapped his arms around her waist and before she could gloat over her little victory, his lips melted into hers.

Sansa smiled into their kiss and held his head between her arms. There were no more barriers, no more walls to hide behind. They were exposed under a sea of spotlights and Sansa couldn't care less. The kiss was searing, full of longing and ambition. Her life was the present and the present repeated over and over again his name, _Petyr, Petyr, Petyr_ as an incantation.  

Sooner than she would have wished, their lips split, pausing the spell that surrounded them momentarily. Petyr's dazzling smile promised her it wasn't the end, that she didn't have to pout.

"Let's get out of here."

The valet immediately brought Petyr's car and faster than lightning they were able to flee away from the shouting and the burning lights. A text message was enough to appease her protective bodyguard, or so she thought. Catelyn was the one who had hired Brienne, but after all, she was Sansa's employee, and after the scandal they had generated, she was sure that Brienne was the last of her problems.

Sansa looked to her left and found the source of all her problems. His fingers gripped the steering wheel firmly and the light of the city illuminated his satisfied complexion. She had not run away with any Prince Charming, he hadn't saved her from any monster, she had taken care of it herself, but he had given her an escape route, a push towards a hidden path in plain sight. He had trusted her when she needed it most, and that was more than any of the people at her engagement party had ever done.

"What are you thinking about, sweetling?"

"How much I hate you for making me do this." Petyr's laughter echoed throughout the vehicle and Sansa could not help but giggle. The red light at the traffic light stopped them, Petyr took her hand in his and bent over giving her a kiss on its back.

"So, you want me to turn around? I can still do it." There was a hint of mockery in his words as his pupils grew darker in shade.

"No, keep driving." No matter where they went, there was no turning back.

"Where do you want to go?"

Sansa thought of her family, of the deal with the Lannisters, of the years she had been locked up in that horrible arrangement with them and sighed. There were no more spotlights, no more fame, no more sponsors. She was finally free and she was with him.

_You're Sansa Stark. You're the star, you make the rules._

"It doesn't matter, anywhere will do."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey... this story is not over.

“I thought you wanted coffee.” It was almost eleven o’clock at night, but the promenade was overflowing with life. The good weather in the capital always accompanied during the night, allowing those who wished a pleasant walk along the sea breeze.

Petyr turned around with a playful smirk, “Correct.”

“So, is this some kind of ice-cream shop where you can also ask for coffee?” Sansa asked with a coy smile. Petyr’s grin widened laying a kiss on her forehead.

“Also correct.”

The couple entered the ice-cream place and sat down in the first booth available. Petyr winked at her before looking around the place like a small kid with a new toy.

“Well?” He asked raising his eyebrows.

“Petyr you’re acting weird, what’s going on?” There was nothing special about the place. It looks like one of those trendy coffee shops teenagers and college students liked to go, with an overpriced menu and flashy decoration.

They definitely didn’t fit in with the local’s usual target market. There were few people, but every few seconds a head turned in their direction. Sansa was still a national celebrity why on earth did she let Petyr take her here? They should have at least changed clothes but her apartment was the first place her mother might look for her and she wasn’t ready for that yet.

Petyr didn’t answer her question and kept looking around wearing his usual smirk in place, until a waiter saw them, nodded in their direction and went back behind the counter. Sansa furrowed her brow, but a buzz coming from her purse distracted her once again. ‘That’s it, I’m turning it off.’ She didn’t want to imagine how many messages she would have when she turned it on again, but until then she didn’t care.

Sansa covered her face with both hands and sighed. What should she do now? She had just given up her whole career, all her work, all her projects and had literally run away. Sansa had finished the script of her film. She had already signed all the contracts for the actors, the management team, the make-up team, and even the casting team. If she canceled everything, she would fall further into ruin. Petyr was her main producer, but even he worked with the Lannisters. With her personal account, she could make almost half of the film, not to mention the costs of transport, catering...

“Are you okay, sweetling?” The buzzing in her head stopped when she heard his voice. Could it be that easy? There was concern in his eyes and Sansa regretted getting herself into this madness without thinking it through.

“It’s just that…” Sansa shook her head, “what will happen to my movie now? I had everything planned, all the contracts, the weeks of shooting, the studio, everything!”

“What do you mean?”

“I have no money.” She replied in a loud whisper. “Without the Lannister’s sponsors, I have nothing. Well, I do, but it’s not enough.”

Petyr smirked, “I think you’re forgetting the obvious.”

“What?”

“They’re your sponsor.” Sansa huffed. “Cersei might have gotten them for you, but they accepted because of you.”

“I don’t understand.” Cersei had always controlled everything, and she liked no one meddling with her plans, especially Sansa even if they concerned her.

“Sansa you are a star! Everyone in Westeros knows your name. You could get a hundred sponsors by only snapping your fingers.”

“The Lannister name is a powerful name, but after the little runaway thing you did tonight, well, let’s say working with the girl that who ditched Joffrey Baratheon gives a lot of publicity, and that’s not everything!” Petyr took her hand in his. “You are an incredible professional and the most clever individual I’ve ever encountered in this kind of business.”

Sansa’s cheeks blushed. “Stop Petyr.”

“What? It’s true, do you think you have something to be jealous of people like Margaery Tyrell? Or, what’s her name? Daenerys Targaryen?” Petyr shook his head. “They’re just poor imitations. They lack grace and style, you’re a true player Sansa anyone who’s paying attention knows this.” Sansa kept silence for a couple of heartbeats. Petyr let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Trust me San-” But Sansa couldn’t listen, she kept weighing every possibility. Petyr was right, she shouldn’t worry about the sponsor or bad press, but she had run out of money. She had taken a risk and the consequences of her actions were sinking in her head. What if something went wrong?

“I’m in the red Petyr!, I’ve literally put everything I have in that movie-”

“Sansa listen.”

“What? What if everything I’ve worked for means nothing?”

“Trust me. It won’t.”

Sansa’s breath hitched when he drew her inner wrist to his lips. At that moment, the waiter from before arrived at their table carrying a tray. Petyr studied the way Sansa’s smile widened when she saw the lemon cheesecake he had ordered for her.

“You have me, sweetling. You’ve always had.”

 

___________________

 

They were alone now. Petyr’s bodyguards arrived at the coffee shop and escorted them to his penthouse. His lips assaulted hers as soon as they walked through the door. They would have started long before but unfortunately, they were not the only ones using the elevator.

Traces of mint and lemon lingered on his lips. Apparently, Petyr had bought the little coffee shop and all the other little cafes that belonged to the same company. “Market expansion” he had called it. ‘Show off,’ Sansa smiled into his kiss remembering his smug expression at the way she had licked her lips after she had finished the sweet treat.

Soft linen white sheets pressed her back when they tumbled onto his bed. Eager lips traveled through the expanse of her neck eliciting moans of pleasure as they reached sensitive points. Oh no, this would not be enough. Sansa wanted him, and she wanted him now.

His clothes laid forgotten on the floor next to the tangle that had been her dress. Petyr’s breath was over her red lace panties now, his eyes fixed on hers. A shiver ran down Sansa’s spine before her hand reached down to weave through his soft hair. He looked wild, untamed, hungry.

“I can smell you sweetling, are you already wet for me?” Her fingers tightened her grip on his hair when his nose grazed the red lace.

“I’ve been wet since the kiss in front of the paparazzi.” Petyr groaned before removing the last barrier between them with his mouth, his smirk never leaving his face. “Naughty girl.”

A dim light invaded the room, allowing her to admire the light-toned body hovering over her.  He kissed and sucked her with greed as if he were a starved man dining for the last time. Sansa couldn’t stop her moans from filling the air and she wouldn’t have anyway.

The moonlight was seeping through the windows, but Sansa only saw the stars. Oh, but she loved him, she had for a long time but now he was only hers. She didn’t have to pretend anymore.

Petyr kept lapping and kissing her mound after she came down from her high, drawing small aftershocks of pleasure through her body until she couldn’t take it anymore. She pulled him up, wrapping her arms around his neck. His lips molded against hers, kissing her passionately as they both drank each other’s moans.

“What do you want Petyr? Tell me.” Sansa purred licking the outer shell of his ear. Petyr gripped her hips pressing her down onto his aching member. Sansa tsk. “No, no, no.” Her hands went behind her back. There was a dangerous glint in her eyes when she unfastened her bra.

Petyr sucked in a long breath before kissing her between the valley of her breast. “I want to worship you. I want to hear my name on your lips until the sun comes up. I want to mark you so everyone will know you’re mine.” His hands pressed Sansa’s ass cheeks eliciting another moan from the redhead.

“You know I couldn’t take my eyes from you all night? You looked so sexy in that suit.” Petyr shut her up with another feverish kiss. Her hips kept rotating, teasing him to the point of insanity. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the way you would fuck me. Fast or slow? Rough or sweet?”

“Oh Sansa,” Petyr flipped them over and pulled her long fiery hair exposing her neck. “I think you need a rough fuck and the last thing I want is to disappoint you.” With that, he thrust into her from behind.

Sansa moaned into the pillow. Petyr kissed her shoulder before he moved. One of his hands was on her hip while the other cupped her breast and twisted her nipple. “Oh my god, Petyr…”

Petyr sighed into her hair. Her folds engulfed him perfectly. Every movement forward brought him into contact against her swollen clit, bring out whines of pleasure out of the redhead’s mouth. Petyr grunted with every arduous drive into her, his nails bit into the fleshy curve of her bottom, tightening in madness.

He pounded her into ecstasy until he heard his name come out from her sweet lips in rapture. He finished a few heartbeats after, collapsing next to her body as she turned around and searched for his lips.

The sky must have been upside down because he was in heaven. Her copper locks felt like silk to the touch against his skin and her eyes danced to the sound of the moonlight with glee. Petyr felt relieved. She didn’t have to go anywhere tonight. No more leaving before the first light of the morning, no more deception and lies around them.

“I missed you.” Petyr smiled and pulled her closer until their nose touched. She shook her head lightly giving him an Eskimo kiss and giggled. “I missed you so much my fiery goddess of temptation.”

“Stop! You’re ruining the moment.”

“What? I didn’t ruin it, you did, with that comment-” Sansa silenced him with another kiss.

“Stop talking my silver knight.”

“It’s my Lord to you now.” He replied with a smirk.

“Okay my lord,” she agreed and lowered her hand down his belly, “show me what else are you planning to do tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... there's only one chapter left *grins* I hope I didn't disappoint with the smutty part, it's been a while since I wrote smut. I had this chapter half-finished since July, it's taken me a while but I'm finally recovering this story :) *happy dance* 
> 
> Thanks for reading as always!
> 
> Tumblr: @quoyan11

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be a one-shot... well, this idea has been with me for at least the last two weeks and I just had to write it. I didn't plan for it but I'm very eager to read your thoughts about it. 
> 
> Special thanks to @petyrbaealish for being the beta of this chapter :)  
> Sorry for not being very active as I used to. This last month has been very busy for me and hopefully this next week I can keep working on my other WIP (especially Timing and Etherium)
> 
> Tumblr: @quoyan11


End file.
